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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27111724">butterflies' blade</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/fluorescentshrimp/pseuds/fluorescentshrimp'>fluorescentshrimp</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Xenoblade Chronicles</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen, Haircuts, Mild Spoilers, Past Shulk/Fiora, Shulk Dies AU</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 16:55:31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>905</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27111724</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/fluorescentshrimp/pseuds/fluorescentshrimp</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Dunban cuts Fiora's hair.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dunban &amp; Fiora (Xenoblade Chronicles)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>22</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>butterflies' blade</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Dunban held the knife in front of Fiora’s long golden locks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fiora fidgeted, staring at her seated reflection in their mother’s old vanity. She really did look like her mother- Fiora wore her hair just like she used to, long pigtails that reached the bottom of her ribcage, curling ever so slightly on the ends. Her hair matched Shulk’s as well, mirroring each other in the way their hair glowed golden when the morning sun shined down, like a halo. Dunban joked that it was a sign they were perfect for each other (which earned him a light punch to the shoulder.) Shulk thought her hair was beautiful. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shulk was gone now. Fiora’s hair was going to become impractical to keep it as-is. She doubted the expanse of the Bionis outside Tephra Cave would have many clean places to sleep, or places to practice extensive hair care routines, or places where the mechon weren’t furiously swarming.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fiora shivered. Dunban put the knife down on the vanity’s desk and placed his good hand on her shoulder.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you alright?” He asked, massaging her shoulder in small circles. “Do you want to do it yourself?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s nothing,” Fiora lied. “It’s just been a long time since I had my hair cut.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you sure that you want me to do this?” Dunban pressed again. He glanced down at his right hand and attempted to flex his fingers. “...I don’t quite trust myself with a spoon these days, let alone a blade. I don’t know what i’d do if I hurt you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That won’t happen at all!” Fiora protested. “I think it would be a nice opportunity to practice with your arm. Challenging yourself like this might help.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dunban frowned. “Haircuts are more permanent than rotating a shoulder, you know.” So was his injury. So was what happened to shulk.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s kind of the point,” Fiora smiled and shook her head. Everything was bound to be permanent now. “I gave this a lot of thought. I want to do this with you.” She took the knife from the desk and placed it in Dunban’s left hand, clasping her own over it. “Please.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dunban stared at her hand for a moment, then closed his fingers over the handle of the blade. “Alright. Just for you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fiora grinned encouragingly at his reflection. “I’m sure you’ll do a great job. Just let me know if you need to stop.” Dunban hummed a thoughtful note and adjusted his grip on the blade as Fiora undid her pigtails.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Here?” Dunban asked. He held the blade over her hair, stopping almost at the top of her ribcage.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“...No. I don’t want a trim.” Fiora resisted the urge to shake her head. “I want something different. Something shorter would be nice.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright. How about now?” He moved the blade upwards, stopping just below her collarbone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How about a bit higher?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dunban held the blade at her shoulders. “There?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes. Perfect.” Fiora didn’t fully feel this way, not a hundred percent. Part of her wasn’t ready to let something that Shulk said he loved so much go. However, she’d long accepted that her longing for Shulk to just </span>
  <em>
    <span>come back</span>
  </em>
  <span> was something that never fully goes away. She knew it well. Dunban told her when he spoke to her about their father, when they remembered their mother. She could grieve for Shulk’s loss, but she would not let it control her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dunban nodded. He held the blade with his left hand and arranged her hair with his right. The blade wasn’t as sharp as he liked, nor was his right hand as steady. He had to pass the blade through the same group of strands several times before they finally fell to the ground, littering the freshly-swept floor with new debris. His hand trembled despite his best efforts.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah-” Dunban sputtered. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What happened?” Fiora shot him a concerned glance in the mirror. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I overshot,” he said simply. His right arm had locked up and he cut too high with his left. Fiora directed her attention from his reflection to her own, her hand flying up to inspect her face and ears.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dunban swallowed, watching Fiora study his handiwork with a serious expression on her face. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I like it,” Fiora said finally. She gave him an approving grin. “Keep cutting it like this.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dunban let out a breath and readied his grip on the blade again. When the last strand of hair fell, he took a step back. “What do you think?” He asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fiora lifted her hand to the tips of her hair, inspecting the new, blunter ends. It was uneven. From the front, her hair stopped right at her ears, framing her face. It was longer around the back of her head, its length dipping below her earlobe ever-so-slightly. Her neck felt strangely cold without its comforting weight. She gently combed her hair with her fingers, pulled at any loose strands the blade may have left and let them join the rest of her locks on the floor, near covered with long golden hair. Fiora stood up, the feeling of floating overcoming her, now that she was without the heavy length of her hair. It felt... liberating.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was uneven. But Dunban did it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I love it. Thank you, Dunban.” Fiora smiled at his reflection in the mirror. She wrapped her brother in a firm hug, then headed into the kitchen to retrieve the dustbin. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
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